Watery Grave Read online

  “Oh, Jeremy,” said she, “how terrible! You would simply have disappeared. We would have had no notion of what had become of you.”

  “A goodly portion of the men on the Adventure were pressed, ” said Tom.” It was them who were left aboard when we anchored.”

  At that his mother gave him a critical look. Apparently those in disgrace were not allowed to contribute to table talk.

  “Indeed,” said Sir John, “and it was them who Hartsell allowed ashore with Sir Robert’s permission — or connivance, better put —to cause mischief in my jurisdiction.”

  “Not likely to see them again aboard the Adventure,” said Tom.

  “We are likely, though, to see a good many of them in my court.”

  A knock came upon the door. I jumped up from the table and went to it, throwing it open, and there I found none other than Benjamin Bailey, captain of the Bow Street Runners.

  “It is Mr. Bailey, Sir John,” I called back to the table.

  “Well, have him come in, by all means.”

  “No need, sir,” said he.” It’s just as I was making my first round of the night I was stopped by a drunken seaman who gave me a letter addressed to you. Sealed it is and in a good hand, so I’m sure it were not the sailor who wrote it.”

  “Was he off the Adventure?”

  “He didn’t say, Sir John. Just stuck it in my hand and asked me to give it you. From the look of it, he’s been carrying it about for a while. I’ll just hand it over to Jeremy here and be on my way. Pleasure to see you, my lady. Sorry to interrupt things.”

  “Nice of you to come by, Mr. Bailey,” said she, waving in good fashion.

  And with that he touched hand to brow and started back down the stairs. I put the letter in Sir John’s hand, and he laid it carefully by the side of his plate.

  Though modest by our household standards, the meal was in no wise stingy. There was near a pound of Stilton set out upon the table alongside a good-sized loaf with butter aplenty and a bowl of pickled cucumbers. We ate well, though after Sir John fmished his tale of our travels, we ate mostly in silence. It was indeed only after he had finished that I noted that he had omitted any mention of his interview with Mr. Donald MacNaughton and had said nothing of Sir Robert’s startling revelation of his kinship to Lieutenant Landon. In fact, nothing was said of our purpose in making the journey to Portsmouth.

  Alter we had done with the meal and drunk the last of our tea, Sir John pushed back from the table and belched appreciatively “Thank you, Kate, that was indeed as good a meal from scratch as has ever been got together.” Then: “Tom, dear boy, I wonder, would you be willing to take on Jeremy’s usual washing-up duties on this occasion? He and I have a bit of work to do.”

  Then, rising, he took up the letter Mr. Bailey had brought and signaled me to follow. We climbed the stairs to his small study. He took his accustomed place behind his desk and laid the letter between us.

  “Let us hear what Mr. Bailey has brought us,” said Sir John.

  There was still light from the window, yet it was growing dim from the lateness of the hour.” I wonder, sir,” said I, “if I might light a candle to read by?”

  “Of course, Jeremy. Light or dark are much the same to me. There are matches there? A tinderbox? ‘

  “Yes, sir.”

  I lit the candle nearest me, took the letter, and broke the seal.

  “The letter is signed Jonathan Grimsby, Lieutenant, R.N.,” said I.

  “Hah! Well, the third officer of the Adventure —or perhaps acting second officer, since Lieutenant Hartsell states himself ‘acting captain.’ What has Mr. Grimsby to say to us, Jeremy?”

  Holding it close to the candle, I read the following letter aloud to Sir John:

  To the Hon. Sir John Fielding, Bow Street Court, No. 4 Bow Street.

  Sir John,

  Whereas I, with the unfortunate Lieutenant William Landon, am become as a virtual prisoner upon the H.M.S. Adventure, it is impossible for me to visit you, which is unjust as I have information to give. I wish to impart it to you for you seem most truly interested in helping my brother officer. Would it be possible for you to return to the H.M.S. Adventure, so that I might speak to you direct?

  Since we are extremely shorthanded as to officers with Mr. Landon confined to his cabin and Mr. Hartsell remaining in his by choice, I serve as officer of the deck through all the daylight hours. I cannot be sure when, or even if, this letter will reach you, since I am entrusting it to one of the crew, and so I shall not request that you come on any specific day, which would be rude and presumptuous of me in any case. All days are the same to me here aboard the Adventure. I shall be eager to see and talk with you whenever you can come.

  Yours & c. Jonathan Grimsby, Lieutenant, R.N.

  After taking a moment or two to digest the contents of the letter, Sir John brought himself upright in his chair, planted his elbows on the desk, and leaned toward me.

  “Well, Jeremy, what do you make of that?”

  “Only good,” said I.” He wishes to help Mr. Landon. He has information to impart. I see only good in that.”

  “Yet why write to me? Why insist on speaking to me and only to me? Why not to Lieutenant Byner, who is, after all, Mr. Landon s counsel in this terrible matter? Why not to Mr. Landon himself?”

  “I cannot suppose why not to Mr. Landon,” said I, “except what Mr. Grimsby wishes to tell may not be something Mr. Landon wishes told.”

  “Or cannot tell himself.”

  “Yes sir, you felt Lieutenant Landon might indeed be holding something back.”

  “Under instructions from his uncle.”

  “But as to why Mr. Grimsby chooses not to tell Mr. Byner, I can only suppose that he may not yet know that he is now acting as counsel.”

  “Or if he knows, he may feel that Mr. Byner is too closely placed to Bobbie … er. Sir Robert.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Damn all, Jeremy, this matter has more convolutions than a snake, and like a snake, you know not where to grab it. I feel that Bobbie is all for helping the young man —he was near in tears when he told me Mr. Landon was his nephew and begged me to save him. There was a surprise, eh? His sister’s son! Imagine!” But then he lapsed into silence a moment before he added: “Yet he often seems to be blocking my way, telling us, in effect, that there are certain paths of investigation open to us and others that are not. Why did he call me into this matter il he would put such restrictions on me?”

  “What do you plan then, Sir John? Will you accept Mr. Grimsby’s invitation?”

  “Oh yes, but it will have to be done behind Bobbie’s back, so to speak. We’ll go tomorrow afternoon following my court session. How does that strike you, Jeremy? You’ll have an errand in the morning, and I’ll have a task I don’t look forward to, so afternoon it will have to be.”

  Since he had not been specific regarding the errand or the task, I knew not to ask him. I accepted it that I would find out soon enough.

  “In any case, we have our witness. Mr. Landon’s case is not lost.”

  “Sir?”

  “You caught it, surely, in the course of MacNaughton’s rambling, bladdering responses? We did leave it out of the statement he signed, however, for it was hearsay. Remember?”

  “Oh yes, of course —the helmsman, Tobias Trindle.”

  “Exactly! Him who said that if Mr. Landon had grasped the captain by the belt of his breeches he would surely have been left with those breeches in his hands, rather than a shoe.”

  “He gave it as his opinion that no man could have saved the captain.”

  “We have our witness,” said Sir John, “but now we must find him.”

  I gave a moment’s thought to that.” Perhaps Tom and I could help there better even than Mr. Bailey or the constables. Tom must know Trindle by sight. And perhaps I know better where to look for him.”

  (And, I thought, Jimmie Bunkins might know best of all.)

  “You make a good argument, lad. Let
me discuss it with Tom. I must now talk to him, in any case. I heard him but a moment ago climbing the stairs to the room he shares with you. Go now. Tell him that I wish to talk with him.”

  Excusing myself and wishing him a good night, for it was grown late, I did as he bade and proceeded to the attic room. There I found Tom stretched out upon the bed, hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the rafters in the ceiling. His eyes shifted to me as I entered; he offered me a muttered hello and nothing more.

  “Sir John wishes to speak with you,” said I.” He’s in the little room below he calls his study.”

  Tom rose from the bed and planted his feet firmly on the floor.

  “Now I’ll get a proper cobbing,” said he.” I suppose I should dismiss all thoughts of the midshipman’s appointment.

  I knew not what to say to that. I could do no more than shrug. And so he left, and I took his place on the bed. I knew not how long their talk lasted, for whilst reading in some book chosen from the pile against the wall, I dozed. Yet from the deep dark of the night and the guttering of the candle, I judged it must have been a very long talk indeed. In fact, I barely woke sufficient to ask him how he had fared.

  “What?” said he.” Oh, we barely talked about that at all. It will come tomorrow. We talked about life aboard the Adventure. It turned out I had much to tell him.”

  “He made a witness of you then.”

  “Yes, I suppose he did.”

  Constant was my amazement at Sir John Fielding’s knowledge of London. How could he have known where bumboats were to be hired? Yet all he had to do was call to the driver of the hackney, “St. Catherine’s Stairs,” and we were off on another adventure. Our destination lay just beyond the Tower of London, as I found, so I was able to view sides of the great castle that I had not seen before. Down Little Tower Hill we went to St. Catherine’s Street, where we came within sight oi the church. It was there the driver reined up and called down that we had arrived.

  I was relieved to see no wharf at the bottom of the stairs: there would be no rope ladder to descend. No, the stairs simply led to the river’s edge where a half-dozen boats of various shapes and sizes were pulled up upon the bank. As soon as the boatmen saw us coming, they surrounded us and began shouting out their prices that bargaining might begin. Sir John dealt expertly with them and soon we were on our way out into the broad river.

  “Don’t know why you’d wish to go out there, sir, ” said the boatman between manful tugs at the oars.” Ship’s all but deserted now.”

  “We’ve good reason.”

  “We had great trade out there for a time —drabs, doxies, booze. Many’s the trip I made.”

  “And then they sent off the crew on leave.”

  “Aye, all of a night it was. By the morning there was just some Lascars and the ship’s officers. Lascars got no money.”

  Sir John said nothing to that.

  “That being the case, ” said the boatman, “strangest thing is, you’re the second haul I made today out to the Adventure.”

  “Oh? Truly? Who was your first?”

  “Naval officer, a lieutenant he was. Took him out this morning and waited, just as I’ll do for you, then took him back —though he asked for Tower Wharf on the return.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why they did not send a boat from the ship I cannot guess.”

  “Perhaps he was not expected.”

  “Must be so,” said the boatman.

  And then the conversation between them, tenuous at best, lapsed completely.

  With but a single oarsman, the longer trip from St. Catherine’s Stairs took longer still. It gave me time to consider the surprising morning I had spent. The errand I had been sent on took me to the Magdalene Home. From there I was to take Annie back to Bow Street. She was as surprised at this as I was and full of questions on the return trip. Yet I had no answers for her, and hearing no answers, she soon gave up questioning. She was quite anxious by the time of our arrival and demonstrated her state with much wringing of hands and a tear or two which she bravely wiped from her eyes. She was no longer the saucy Annie of old.

  The solemn-faced trio who awaited us in the kitchen seemed to frighten her more. She met them with eyes cast downward and when they bade her come with them she assented with a nod. When I made move to follow, I was sternly instructed to remain there in the kitchen. They went direct to Sir John’s study, as I could tell by their footsteps, and once there one of their number shut the door. They must have talked near an hour, and when they emerged arid returned to the kitchen all was changed.

  I did not know then, though I was to learn later from Tom, that Sir John and Lady Fielding faced the two young miscreants and lectured them on the gravity of their act. Sir John, of course, did most of the talking. He did not dwell overmuch on the dangers of disease, for he must have felt that his Kate had covered it sufficient; he did, however, give weight to the possibility of pregnancy. He asked Tom if he was in a position to support a child; Tom admitted he was not, acknowledging at the same time that it would be his duty to do so. What had they to say for themselves in defense of their actions? Annie said that she had done what she had done for love, the first time ever it was so, that she loved Tom with all her heart. Sir John pointed out that because she was the more experienced of the two, she might be said to bear the greater blame, but that there was an extenuating circumstance. He then asked Tom if he loved Annie. He admitted, his face averted from her, that while he liked Annie and was attracted to her, he could not say that what he felt was love. Then Sir John pointed to Annie’s poor crumpled, weeping face, and said that Tom, knowing her feelings for him, had used them to have his way with her. And then said he, most solemn, “It is a terrible thing, my boy, to use another human being so.” And Tom was sore ashamed. In the end, a grave promise was extracted from each that what had happened would not be repeated. And Annie was told that as long as she kept her promise she might stay.

  Yet none of this I knew when the four returned to the kitchen. And when I was told that Annie would stay with us, I could not suppose why such happy news should make them all look so sad —and Annie most sad of all. But thus the crisis passed, and it was not long before she had recovered herself sufficiently to sit down with me and call out a list of edibles for me to buy at Covent Garden Market. She confided that she would make this a meal for all to remember… .

  “You shall have to precede me up the ladder, Jeremy,” said Sir John, rousing me from my ruminations, “and ask permission of Mr. Grimsby for me to come aboard.”

  We were quite near the ship, coming hard along the dangling ladder.

  “But,” said I, “you were invited by letter.”

  “Of course I was. It is but a formality, but one that is rigidly observed.”

  And so, at the right moment, with a proper signal from the boatman, I grabbed hold the ladder and began my ascent. Going up was never a problem for me, after all. The problem came when I reached the top.

  For who should I find waiting for me but Mr. Midshipman Boone, that nasty young fellow who, in attempting to push me down the poop deck stairs, had tumbled down them himself

  “Away, you pissy little lubber,” said he.” I’ll not let you aboard.”

  Ignoring him, I attempted to throw my leg over the deck rail. But he pushed it back, and I near lost my balance for a brief moment. I grasped the rope ladder tight.

  “I am come for Sir John Fielding, ” said I with all the authority I could muster.” He waits in the boat below.”

  “I care not who waits. This is His Majesty’s Ship Adventure, and we let no lubbers aboard.”

  “You had better,” said I.” He is Magistrate of the Bow Street Court.”

  And so saying, I went up the ladder again. He, in turn, pushed down at my head with such strength that he near unseated my hat from its perch on my head and forced me down a rung or two.

  “I care naught for your magistrate,” said he.” Get down and get away, or I shall p
ush you into the river.”

  I admit that his threat had some effect upon me. Though I have since conquered my fear of the water and can now swim a fair distance, I was at that time quite incapable except in a wading pond. Nevertheless, I had bested him once and was determined to do so again. And so I set my hat firm upon my head and started again up the rope ladder. Yet this time when his hand came down toward me, I was ready for it and grabbed him tight around the wrist. He fought to get loose —but to no avail. Then, pulling with all my strength, I descended one rung of the ladder, stretching him down over the deck rail, perilously threatening his balance. He had been flailing at me with his free hand, but now he was forced to grasp the rail with it and hold on for dear life. Then, tugging downward with all my strength, I began to move down to the next rung. His round face wore a fearful expression. His eyes bulged from the effort of resistance. He looked in pain. Perhaps he could swim no better than I!

  If I could force him down one more rung I’d have him overboard.

  But then another face appeared above that reddened, sweating one upon which I concentrated all my energy. It looked familiar, yet I was in no state to try to put a name to it.

  “Ah, Mr. Boone, I see you are about to take a swim,” said the familiar face.” I would advise against it. The Thames is much too dirty for that sort of recreation. And Mr. Proctor, I’d advise you to let loose your grip, for if he goes swimming, he may take you with him.”

  The face belonged to Mr. Grimsby. I loosed my grip, and Mr. Boone collapsed out of sight on the other side of the rail. My hand was so weakened by the struggle that it was near useless on the ladder. Yet somehow I managed to get up and over, only then noticing that our combat had attracted an audience of smiling Lascars along the rail. They waved their approval, saying nothing. One or two applauded. I had to jump wide not to come down feet-first on Mr. Boone.

  “Sir John,” called out Mr. Grimsby loud and clear, “you have permission to come aboard.”

  “I heard a bit of difficulty up there,” Sir John called back.